


Tortoise and The Hare

by whimsicalmuse



Category: Hetty Wainthropp Investigates, Taggart (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-15
Updated: 2005-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling Leaves never ceased to facinate Jamie. AU/Crossover based on Hetty/Taggart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tortoise and The Hare

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

Falling leaves never failed to fascinate Jamie. They were like little crinkly kingdoms, drifting in the wind, only to retire on the dry grass, still as stone. From his window he could peer down at a certain time in the afternoon, and watch the leaves blow. How they danced in semi-circles, sometimes splattering against the dusty window with a loud “thwap” that made Jamie startle.

Some afternoons _she_ would visit. Young Elisabeth from down the way. Two years older than Jamie, and away at Uni, she was scarcely around save the summers and winters, and on occasion some weekends in the fall. And when she returned, as she had done since Jamie was a lad, she’d ascend their front steps, peep ‘round Jamie’s mum, and once she saw him, rush forward in a breeze of excitement and exclaim oh _how_ she missed him.

It was a concept he found difficult to comprehend.

For in truth, he perhaps missed her in his own fashion. He noticed. Noticed when she was away, how he couldn’t hear the crush of her light footsteps on the grass as she strolled up the lawn to see him. He noticed he could sometimes catch the faint hint of her perfume on other ladies that came to dine. They weren’t as pretty as she, and Jamie noticed that their hair didn’t gleam like a honey glazed fire, when caught in the light just so.

He noticed.

And when he sat at his cozy desk, and rested tired elbows on the table top, he noticed she liked to loom in the corner, her gaze locked snugly on his form. But Jamie never turned around. Couldn’t, because he only had eyes for the falling leaves. But then…

But then one day Elisabeth crept closer, so much so somehow that he could feel her heat and the waves of her smell carried full force. And he eyed her—warily, because she was changing things, the habit between them, and Jamie wasn’t over-fond of change. When he looked at her, from the side, head tilted, a delightful thing caught his attention for her eyes were quite the thing. Dark like burnt amber, with just a hint of green, like tiny green seeds on an autumn forest floor. Oh, he noticed, and what’s more, to his delight, she seemed to be wearing a sweater that was the same color of her eyes.

His gaze lingered, as he took her in.

“Your eyes.”

“Yes?” Jamie pulled back, as it was she was within steps to him. Why did she sound so breathless?

“Your eyes match your sweater.” He continued, but no, because a closer look revealed it wasn’t quite so. “Ah, no. Not really. No green on the sweater.” And he grinned, pleased with how clever the eyes were. Able to discern these things.

He felt her smile, but was distracted. A pile of leaves seemed to ballet dance on the chilly wind, and he liked how this batch looked like small people. The leaves glided down, like a swan in flight, and to his delight landed a hop away from a fat brown hare.

“Oh look!” Jamie gasped, and he turned around, and something soft and wet met his lips. There was heat, and a sugary smell, and he knew if he opened his lips he could taste, but all he wanted to do was crawl away, and so he did. Back three steps, until he was pressed against the chair and head down, he was most embarrassed.

And from the sound of her breathing so was she.

“You kissed me.” He mumbled, staring down at his trainers. He needed to tie his shoe. But…but not while she was still here, she might…move again. Why didn’t she go?

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because…because I…I wanted to.”

Oh.

“Didn’t you want to?”

Didn’t you want to? Didn’t you want to?

“Ehm.”

“I won’t wait for you, Jamie. I won’t.” She sounded wet now, like she was holding back the tide of her tears. His misery was all consuming. So stupid he was. Stupidstupidstupid. And then she left, closing the door softly, and he could hear the sound of her footfalls, landing heavily on the stairs.

He noticed. Heard the difference in the sound from other times.

He noticed. It was late, when had the sun moved so? He’d been thinking a long time.

He noticed.

~

He noticed that Geoffrey could sit and watch him hours on, without tire, and he _never_ slid into Jamie’s personal space.

Sometimes though, when Jamie was done at his desk, Geoffrey would nod his head toward the door, waves of frenetic energy bouncing off of him, and he’d beckon Jamie out into the chilly wind and dusty paths of the lawn. “Come out and _see_ the leaves, Jamie.” He’d breathe, as they kicked and crunched and crackled together underneath the bony boughs.

He noticed the apple-red shade of Geoffrey’s cheeks, plump and pressed up near his eyes, until the skin crinkled. Geoffrey’s eyes changed, they did, from a steel blue, to solemn grey, and sometimes, a bubbly in between. Pretty as blended yarn and what a sweater could be made, of someone took the color of Geoff’s eyes.

When they leaned against the tree, Geoff would fall back, a few paces, and blow air unto his chilly hands. Sometimes, Jamie would look at the long fingers, wanting to touch, but then, not, and the want and thought would elicit a most tender throb. And he noticed sometimes, that Geoffrey saw him watching, but if there was to be something to come of it, it never did.

But that’s not to say Geoffrey wasn’t content to waiting. “I’m waiting for you, Jamie Holmes.” He’d rumble softly, his breath puffing the underside and back of Jamie’s ear. “Waiting for you to be ready.” He’d add, before he’d step into the heat of the house, leaving Jamie caught in anticipation and fear.


End file.
